


74th Hunger Games

by starkercrossedlovers



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkercrossedlovers/pseuds/starkercrossedlovers
Summary: Hunger games but make it starker!
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Kudos: 9





	74th Hunger Games

**Author's Note:**

> this was a thing i posted on tumblr intending to write more....and then didn't lol

Peter gathers in the town square with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, the trio holding hands as the selection ceremony begins. He sees Ned with his family, their faces hollow with hunger and fear. MJ and her mother are close by too, and though she shoots him a grim smile, it does nothing to reassure him.

The pomp and ceremony from the Capitol rings hollow to those here in District 12 where food is scarce and hope scarcer. He thinks he sees the blonde head of Steve Rogers, the only Tribute from 12 to have won the games, years before Peter was even born. He’s seen the pictures of the man from then, smaller and weaker than anyone else in the games, winning through sheer cunning and a tenacious will to live.

Peter hopes that if he’s chosen that he’ll die quickly, he’s watched the games and the idea of being slaughtered by a Tribute from the Capitol holds no appeal for him. He’s had to put his name in multiple times over the years since he turned twelve and was eligible for the games and somehow he’s made it to 17 without being chosen.

Without the extra food he had gotten for entering his name his parents would have died much sooner—but it hadn’t mattered in the end, the mine collapse had taken them both in one day. He works at the bakery with his Uncle Ben and he knows that they’re better off than a lot of people in the District, but it’s still a hard life.

May teaches at the small school and serves as the healer for the town, though she’s no expert like the ones in the Capitol. Still, it’s not a bad life. A short one perhaps, with the world as it is, but not a terrible one.

He doesn’t quite hear the words as they’re said, but the sob May lets out startles him and he looks over to find her clinging to Ben and his stomach drops, hard and fast.

“I volunteer!”

The square goes quiet and he realizes the words have come from him, that he’s spoken and before he can really begin to process it, he’s repeating himself, louder this time and stepping forward.

“I volunteer as Tribute.”

May screams and lunges toward him, her arms too tight as she sobs, tries to fight the Peacekeepers from dragging him up on stage and he gets a last hug in before he’s shoved onstage next to a woman with violently fushcia hair.

He can see May sobbing and Ben holding her, tears rolling down his cheeks as they watch him, and it feels like all the sound has evaporated from the air, he watches as another name is called and looks on in surprise when he sees a man climbing the stage, a red headed woman crying in the crowd behind him.

Tony Stark?

He’s easily the wealthiest man in the District; most of the land belongs to him and his family, and though he has more than most, he’s never been afraid to give to others. It’s a known fact that the man goes beyond the fences and hunts so people without don’t go hungry and it’s only his status that keeps the PeaceKeepers looking the other way.

It’s unusual, having two Tributes of the same sex, but there’s nothing in the rules against it, so he can only watch as they’re introduced to the cameras before being shuffled off into the privacy of the Hall of Justice behind them. He gets time to say goodbye to his Aunt and Uncle and in the corner sees Mr. Stark comforting the redhead.

They’re packed aboard a train and headed toward the Capitol before he fully has time to process what’s happening, Mr. Rogers with them to be their guide, tutor. Mr. Stark sits sullenly, looking increasingly more annoyed as Effie blathers on about the games and what an honor it is to be chosen.

Steve scoffs and drinks more, seemingly determined to get drunk as fast as possible. Peter picks at his food, not really hungry, too scared to have an appetite. Eventually they go their separate ways, Steve with a bottle of alcohol to keep him company, Mr. Stark with a parting glance at Peter that leaves him unsettled in its intensity.

He sits in his bed and watches the countryside pass by, the sky a bruised shade of blue that looks like he feels; dark and hopeless. There’s a knock at his door and he looks up in surprise, Mr. Stark is there, looking at him with that same intensity as he did before.

“Uh, hi, Mr. Stark,” he greets, self conscious of the fact that he’s already in his night clothes, and then the older man is moving and waving toward the bed with a questioning little smile. Peter nods and shuffles into the pillows, making room for the older man, face flushing at their proximity.

He’s had, well, a bit of a crush on the older man for a number of years and it doesn’t help to see him up close, looking at him like, like, he’s _special._ There’s no reason for the man to think that or even know who he is—sure he’s come to the bakery a few times and Peter has delivered bread to his home, but they’ve never exchanged more than passing greetings or comments on the weather.

“Well, this is quite the situation that we’ve found ourselves in, hmm?” he asks, laughing bitterly. “Though I have to say it was really brave of you to take your Uncle’s place. He never would have made it with that bad knee of his.”

“Why were you chosen?” Peter asks, flushing bright red at the intrusive question, ducking his head as embarrassment washes over him. “Never mind, that was rude.”

There’s a low laugh and then a large hand lands on his knee, warm and heavy and a shiver runs over his spine. “Don’t worry kid, it’s fine. I was chosen because I paid to have my name in there, so others wouldn’t have to go. It finally happened,” he muses, “I was kind of thinking it wouldn’t ever come up.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter murmurs, hand moving to cover the one on his knee. He meets the older man’s gaze, earnest and sad, “It was good of you to do that. You’ve done so much for the District,” he says, “Thank you.”

The older man stares at him for a minute and shakes his head, smiling softly, “You’re too good kid, god, these games are going to destroy that light inside you.”

Peter trembles at that; he doesn’t want to die, that’s for sure, but he intends to fight, for however long he can. “Promise me something?” he asks softly, looking up at the man from beneath his lashes, “Make sure my family is ok after I’m gone?”

The older man stares at him for such a long time he’s sure he’s going to reject him, but then he nods slowly and squeezes his knee, “I promise kid,” he murmurs. He gives him a soft smile and stands, ruffling Peter’s hair before departing, the automatic door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss.

Peter goes to bed soon after, watches the stars come out one by one until he falls asleep, dreaming of gentle hands and warm smiles.

——————

“Listen to me Rogers, if anyone makes it out of that arena, you make sure it’s him, you hear me?”

Steve sighs and takes another drink, eyes him blearily, “Sure Tony, no problem,” he sighs, “not that either of you are making it out, but sure.”

Tony scoffs and shakes his head, “Try and sober up before we reach the Capitol, huh?” he comments dryly.

Just before the Tony reaches the door Steve’s soft voice stops him in his tracks.

“Why’s this kid so special Tony? Hmm? What’s he mean to you?”

Tony stares at the metal of the door, heart beating too fast before he answers.

“He’s just a kid Steve, a good kid. You remember what that’s like, to be innocent and thrust into madness? I don’t want to see him turn out like…”

“Me?”

He glances back and meets the top blue eyes, clearer than they had been moments ago and Tony wonders just how much of his drunkenness is an act.

They share a moment of silence before Tony turns again, the soft slide of the door loud in his ears.

————————

The grandeur of the Capitol awes the kid, and it’s amusing in a deeply dark and unsettling way, because the glittering world before them is just a thin veneer, hiding the festering core beneath.

They’re ushered into their living quarters and given a schedule of events, training parties and finally, the day the Games begin.

He watches as Peter trains, surprise filling him when the kid easily lifts hundreds of pounds, swings from ropes and wrestled a sparring partner twice his size to the ground. His size and abilities are clearly surprising to others as well, based on the number of allies they’ve suddenly gained.

He’s older than most Tributes, but he’s still fit enough and clever enough to pose a threat, and he has his own offers of allyship that he has to consider, even if the whole affair makes him sick.

He spends more time with the kid, training and eating meals, attending parties that leave his skin itchy with the need to get away, and through it all he notices the steady strength and calm of the kid, sees the way he learns and observes the other Tributes, the intelligence in his gaze that’s easy to miss when he opens them wide and looks innocently at others…

He’s, well, a surprise.

A distraction too.

Tony had loved Pepper as long as he can remember, but in a distant way, the way he loved the sunset—awe inspiring but too far away to touch, always just out of reach.

He doesn’t love the kid…but he damn sure admires him.

He takes a bottle of whiskey to his room and watches the fireworks in the distance—it’s the eve of the Games and the Capitol is celebrating in fine fashion.

He’s a quarter of the way through the bottle when there’s a knock at his door. The kid steps in shyly, hesitating at the door as Tony stares at him.

“I uh, can’t sleep. Can I, hang out here?”

Tony shrugs and nods, jerking his chin “Sure kid, c’mere,” he murmurs.

The kid joins him at the balcony, watching the fireworks in silence for a few minutes before he offers the bottle to the kid with a silent gesture.

Peter hesitates and lifts his gaze to Tony’s, “I’ve never had anything to drink before,” he admits and the sheer innocence in that makes Tony’s gut twist.

“Give it a try and decide if you like it,” he suggests, smirking faintly when the kid nods uncertainly and accepts the bottle. He sniffs and winces and Tony laughs, watches as he lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a sip, his reaction sharp and immediate.

His face turns red as he coughs, spluttering and hacking and Tony laughs harder, real pleasure warm in his chest for the first time in a long time. He slaps a hand against his back and takes the bottle, “Don’t worry, you get used to it,” he murmurs before taking a sip of his own.

Eventually the kid takes another sip and then a few more before Tony cuts him off and makes him drink water. Still, the kid looks sleepy, and he’s leaning against Tony in a way that should be annoying but really just feels… good.

When he tries to urge the kid to his own room he looks up at him with wide honey eyes and asks if he can stay, _I’m scared Mr. Stark_ he says, voice tremulous and eyes bright.

 _Ok kid_ , he agrees, guides him to his bed and determines to just sleep on his couch when a small hand wraps around his wrist, sleepy eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

_Stay?_

It’s such a bad idea.

But he does it anyway.

He slides into bed beside the kid and stills when Peter immediately cuddles up against him. His breath is soft against Tony’s neck as he falls asleep, brow lined with the worries of the coming days.

Hesitantly, he runs his fingers through the soft curls brushing the crown of his head, stills when Peter sighs and nuzzles closer. It’s scary how much this feels right, and it’s in that moment that he knows, he’s _so_ fucked.

———————

When Peter looks across the clearing, he sees Tony on his pedestal, waiting for the air horn to blast and start the games. The older man catches his eye and shoots him a gentle smile, eyes soft, and the fires, startling their gazes apart.

Peter sprints away from the Cornucopia as he’s been instructed, screams and shouts filling the air behind him.

The 74th Hunger Games had begun.


End file.
